


What it takes to break a God

by KusakabeNAyako



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And then there is Herrah, F/M, I know it sounds impossible, Infection, Lets try a different approach, Made up Backstory, Pale King fights, Pale King is not a dick, War, White Lady worries for her husband, but i was like
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:49:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29827977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KusakabeNAyako/pseuds/KusakabeNAyako
Summary: The Pale King is an odd one amongst Wyrms. Instead of destroying and devouring, he wishes to build and nurture. But make no mistake, he is a Pale Being. A Scion of the Black Wyrm. He will protect his kingdom with his own four hands.
Relationships: The Pale King/White Lady (Hollow Knight)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 28





	1. There will be no peace

**Author's Note:**

> SO MANY WHAT IFS BUT THE BIGGEST OF THEM ALL:  
> What if the Pale King didn't fuck up (and off) royally?

The room was cold and quiet. Exactly as He preferred it. Usually when He was alone in the moist darkness, He felt the wheels of His mind settle to some extent. Usually, He would find peace in the occasional drop of water hitting the high glass windows. Usually, He would close His eyes to the irregular rhythm and just… breathe.

This was not a usual time.

Before Him on the bed laid one of His own subjects. She was silent too. Not even her breaths perforated the heavy numbness of the room. Her eyes were closed under her mask. She was sleeping, but she seemed dead. Based on the previous four instances with the Infection, she might as well be dead at this point.

He did not sigh. It was not the nature of a Pale Being and neither the luxury of a monarch to show such weakness. His radiant wings were tucked uncomfortably under a dark cloak He had donned for the occasion. He didn’t want the bug to wake in the wrong time because His light was too inviting.

He did not sigh, but the sentiment trembled in His chest.

He wondered when He gained a soft heart like this one. When He met The White Lady, His own light in the damp darkness? When He first accepted that tenuous, fragile peace treaty with the Mantis Tribe? When He took hours and hours to talk with the construction workers about building a great city He will rarely step a foot in? When He guided the trembling hands of the first warrior-wished-to-be emerging from the crowd? When He decided to discard His Great Form for something… uncertain?

When was the ruthlessness of Wyrms drained from His heart? What would the others of His kind think, if They saw Him right now? His siblings, who have no intention to alleviate the mortals crawling under them in the dirt. His Mother, whose first and only kindness was to bestow a name upon each of her hatchlings before chasing them out of the Nest.

His Sire, the Black Wyrm, who managed to plague His weak hours till this very day. What would the Great Calamity do to the Son who shredded a piece of His own divinity and Light to meddle amongst _mortals?_

It doesn’t matter. If, _when_ the day comes for the Destroyer of Kingdoms to knock on His offspring’s door, He will not be able to do a single thing to stop him. Prince among Gods and King among Mortals he might be, there is no force that would repel the God of Gods.

A small tremble rocked the body of the bug before Him.

He took a final step towards the bed and contemplated sitting on the edge of it to spare Himself the fall He’ll soon might endure. He considered, but remained standing anyway. Instead, he had reached under his cloak and pulled out the small charm, hanging from a silver chain. The Seer refused to give him the Dreamnail and He didn’t urge her. He had no intention to rob a blind, old woman of her last treasured possession.

She was kind enough to give Him this charm. Though it could not open a way to the Dream immediately, as long as He wore it, His dreams would take Him to the realm of the Old Light. With a last glance at the carved dream catcher, He leaned forward and eased a gentle palm upon the forehead of the sick.

Gods were more Soul than flesh.

More mind than body.

If He wills Himself to sleep, sleep He shall.

He was standing on a platform. It was crumbling on its own, hardly fit to hold any weight at all. Before it could collapse, radiant silver wings spread out behind Him. They were powerful and large, carried Him with slow and gentle movements. He turned around and looked for another platform fit for landing. There was none. Only endless clouds.

Flying it is then.

“Old God of Light, We call you forth. Show yourself!”

Something changed in the air around Him. The clouds moved aside like mist and before Him, the sun disk itself sprouted a myriad of slender wings. He refused to be intimidated by the sight, though He knew a show of force when He saw one. The next thing He knew was a giant moth towering over Him.

Once again, He remained impassive.

“The thief dares to enter my Queendom with his chin held high. He shall leave on his knees.”

“We come in peace, Sun Queen. Do not be so prone to hostility.”

Her eyes were narrow to begin with. Now they turned to slits.

“One can only make peace with an equal. And you, upstart conqueror of my Queendom, can never hope to compare.”

His godly pride bristled at the insult.

“We do not _wish_ to become anything akin to you, Old Light. You are torturing the people who had never hurt you in any shape or form.”

“It got me your attention, did it not?”

He could hear the grin in her voice and saw the dark amusement in her eyes. For a moment, He contemplated on this being a trap, but found that it held no matter. Trap or not, He needed to talk to her and stifle this madness in the crib.

“So it did and We are here. What is it that you wished from Us?”

“The only thing I wish is for you to perish, False Light. So _kind_ of you to seek out your demise.”

There were no words nor time to give an answer to her arrogance. Were He less than a god, He would have been impaled by the myriad of thin, graceful swords hurled at Him. As a Higher Being, he saw the assault from a mile away. Evading the weapons did not prove difficult. He often clashed with the Beast Queen of Deepnest and despite her size, Herrah was a fast opponent as well.

“Stop this assault at once, Old Light! We are a god in Our prime, surely you cannot hope to achieve victory over Us!”

“A young fool you are, nothing more.”

“Killing Us will not earn you their freely given minds.”

“I care not for their will. I shall remind them to the scorching burn of the Sun.”

Madness. She has gone mad. Lashing out in vengeance was something He could understand, gods rarely tolerated each other in the same living space, but going after the people? The guiltless? It’s been ten and one generations since the moths has stopped worshipping the Goddess that demanded their minds and gave nothing in return. Has it been enough time for her to go insane?

He dodged her rays of light that were meant to incinerate.

“We urge you one last time, cease this nonsense. You work towards destruction when We came to make peace.”

“There will be no peace between us, Wyrm. That wretched kingdom of yours will soon know the plague of dreams. They will dread every moment they spend in my Realm. I shall worm myself into their shells and their minds. They will walk you lands mindless and lifeless, consume everyone who is not one of my victims and when your kingdom lets out its last death rattle, I shall make a slave of you as well.”

He felt His hands clench in fury and His Soul flare up at the sheer horror and audacity of the moth. He came here to offer an olive branch, not wishing to enter yet another war when the conflict with Deepnest was still ravaging His borders and she dares to threaten His _subjects?_ His _people?_ It took Him centuries to guide the bugs out into the light, teaching them what He knew and how to strive for _more_. He will _not_ stand for anyone threatening His Kingdom.

A pity it had come to this.

“How will you achieve that, _moth_ , if you are busy fighting for your life?”

And for the first time since He entered her realm, He let his Soul manifest. Pointed a thousand glowing swords at the great form of the old goddess and let the Pale Light flare up in all four hands of His. For a single second, everything stood still, the sheer magnitude of the building conflict weighing heavily on the world around them.

Then He fired. And fired again. And again. He did not stop.

She was impaled over and over again. Likely never fought another god before.

Her screams shook the Realm of Dreams.

And He did not stop for a _long_ time.


	2. One of many

When their King emerged from the room, everyone jumped to their feet and knelt immediately. They did not dare to utter a single word. He has been in there for almost the whole night. The King closed the door behind himself with a careful motion, waiting for a soft click. Then he turned back to the family waiting for the news.

“Rise.”

They did. Lurien couldn’t help but flinch at the monarch’s voice. For generations the Pale Being lived amongst them, free to be sought out by anyone who wished for an audience, yet his presence remained overwhelming for almost everyone. His light was always too bright to allow a direct look at his figure, his voice manifested in the form of many whispers, almost slid into the mind of the bugs instead of resonating through the air between them.

“We have done what We could. Unfortunately, this infection originates in the mind and not the body. She shall awake, but We fear her mind had already been damaged. Furthermore, there’s no telling if We managed to stop the Infection from spreading.”

The mother of the victim collapsed in tears and leaned against the father for support, who was also clinging to the younger daughter’s hand like his own life depended on it. Lost between the sobs were a few words of gratitude. Maybe Lurien’s sight was playing tricks on him but the King seemed to be tired, despite being perfectly composed as always.

“How long does she have, Your Majesty?”

“All We managed to buy for her is a say in peace, for now.”

The woman wailed into her husband’s shoulder and Lurien felt his hands clench. The Pale Monarch silently shrugged off the dark cloak he donned before entering and handed it over to Ogrim, who was up until now standing silently beside the door, guarding their liege vigilantly.

“It is with heavy heart that We say there words and We shall never ask again, nor shall We pressure you. Considering the fact that a great many factors are unknown about this infection still, We ask you to allow the Teacher to stay beside your daughter in her final hours. Her keen eyes might catch something We have missed and get us closer to the day where the infection could be stopped.”

True to his word, the King did not say anything else. The couple exchanged a tearful glance between themselves before the father nodding, his grave expression mostly hidden behind his mask. The King of Hallownest inclined his head in gratitude in the face of their sacrifice.

“We are grateful for your understanding. We shall return tonight to check up on her. Lurien.”

The family bowed for the King as he passed with The Watcher hurrying after his liege. He squeezed the father’s shoulder in a last reassuring manner and then caught up fully with the monarch and his guard. Staying respectfully one step behind and keeping his eyes on the corridor ahead instead of the Pale Being, he remained silent until he was spoken to.

“We trust you to send a message to The Teacher and let her know her presence is needed urgently in the Capital.”

“Of course, Sire.”

“Also make sure the family is being taken care of. Keep an eye out for new infected, though We doubt that the Old Light would have it in her to spread her plague now.”

He was unsure about the last part. It sounded like the King was musing to himself. Still, he acknowledged the other order just as eager as he did with the first one.

“It will be done, Sire.”

“Good. We will go to see Our Lady now. Good day, Watcher.”

“Good day, Your Grace.”

Lurien watched the King’s luminescent form disappear behind the corner and for a second, he closed his eyes. It took him a few moments to calm his raging heart which always pounded in his chest whenever he was lucky enough to be blessed by their King’s presence. Then he closed his eyes, the picture of the grieving family flashing before his him.

How terrible it must be to love something that death can touch.

*

Though His legs were taking Him to The White Lady, His mind couldn’t be further from the present. The battle against the Old Light was successful, but upon awakening He realized the toll it took on His physical body to engage in such combat. While He was in the Realm of Dreams His shell did not rest. A familiar sense of sluggishness courted the edge of His senses, one that He knew well from days spent in the workshop.

He closed His eyes for a second in order to rest them. The image of the family refused to leave Him. Being childless Himself and from a species that did not care for Their offsprings, He knew well that He could never truly comprehend the nightmare that was now the small family’s reality. What a terrible privilege it must be, to love someone so fragile.

“Welcome back, Your Majesty.”

He nodded absentmindedly to the nobles but passed them without engaging in conversation. He saw the papers in their hands, knew that His duties will not dissolve just because He was not paying attention to them. But He wanted to talk to His wife first.

He found her on the balcony of their chambers.

“My Root.”

“My Wyrm. You were gone the whole night. Does this mean… bad news?”

She was always perceptive. A god in her own right, she always managed to reawaken the respect He felt for her the first time they had met in the Garden centuries ago. He walked over to her, into the embrace of her many soft tendrils. She was a dwarfing presence, yet He scarcely minded the difference between their physical forms.

“The gift of the Seer proved itself useful. We managed to enter the Dream Realm.”

“… But?”

He shook His head, the tiredness hitting Him in a greater wave.

“She won’t listen. Assaulted and threatened Us, threatened Our _subjects._ We admit Our temper got away with Us.”

“You’ve fought then?”

“We did. We managed to subdue her for now, but in the Realm of Dreams she lasts eternal and it’s only a matter of time before she goes after Our subjects again. And the girl… she did not get better.”

The White Lady closed her eyes in silent grief. Unlike Him, she greatly desired children for she was an ever breeding creature. In the lack of her own children, she tried to take pleasure in other’s and thus every loss caused her great pain. He felt His hands clench into fists once more.

How dare the moth cause pain to His wife? Suddenly the tiredness in His limbs was laced with grim satisfaction.

She had got what she deserved.

“What shall happen now?”

He wished He could give her a better answer than the one He had to make do with.

“We shall fight her every night, if that’s what it takes. If this stops the infection from spreading, this is a sacrifice We will gladly make.”

She did not, in her mercy, ask what will happen if the infection doesn’t stop.

Neither of them knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pale King: Maybe We shouldn't have let Ourselves be provoked into that fight so easily.  
> White Lady: *is sad*  
> Pale King, already drawing a sword: Or maybe We've been too lenient with the bitch.


	3. New problems do not make the previous disappear

He held the reports from the borders of Deepnest and frowned. This again.

Seven construction workers were missing. This was the third time since they began to build that Tram station and He was seriously contemplating calling off the whole thing. It took Him years to finish the negotiations over it, but now He began to suspect that it wasn’t Him who convinced her, but her own advisors.

They saw this as an offering of free meal. The predators of the deep were close and The Beast did not earn her title besides the diplomacy table. The two of them have clashed many times over her Hunters crawling into the Ancient Basin.

She was truly an infuriating woman.

His respect towards her was barely diminished by the amount of headaches she was causing Him. Every once in a while the two of them met over some bold Hunter or Lost worker. Usually, nothing got resolved during these meetings. He too understood the necessity to make sure one’s subjects were fed. He would never wish for Herrah to have to force her people into cannibalism, though few of them were indulging it already, happily so. He just wished it was His lands they were ravaging.

If she decided to feed on a different settlement, He would not interfere, despite the way it felt to think about letting the Hunters loose on innocents. If He has to choose who to protect, A King must consider His own subjects first.

He has to go to Deepnest again and soon. If Herrah does not see Him address the issue, she would become bolder. More bugs would disappear, maybe even more frequently. He was truly beginning to get fed up with all these hostilities. The Hive, the Mantis Tribe, Deepnest, they were all seemed to watch and wait for any kind of weakness they could exploit, even after the first two allowed the ceasefire.

Maybe it would be better to stop the construction. Maybe He should just bar those tunnels and let Herrah figure it out on her own. The old instinct in Him urged was happy to conjure up some thoughts about how much of His problems would go away if He just stopped pretending what he was not. Wyrms did not build cities. They destroyed them.

He silenced that thought as soon as it emerged, forbidding it from taking root.

He can’t stop the construction, not now. She would no doubt consider it for the triumph and would push forward. If He doesn’t draw a line, Root knows where her ambition would stop her.

He put down the records and stoop up. No point in wasting the time He did not have.

*

The Beast Queen made Him wait. For three hours He had stayed at the edge of Deepnest and waited for her. A familiar power play of hers. He was almost used to it by now. Herrah claimed that it took time for the message to reach her in the other side of Deepnest. However, He did not hatch yesterday. The second the webs trembled, all of her subject knew who was standing on their border.

It was no use to fume over it. He could not make her stop and she never would.

So while He waited, sitting by a white table Hegemol was gracious enough to carry here, with His loyal knight by His side, He did the paperwork. Something He knew all too well irked her to no end. And He did have a lot of paperwork. Supervising the trade deals, constructions, the training of the soldiers, the squabbles of the nobles and the woes of His people. Especially now, that the infection was trying to claim its next victim. He tried to contain the information, but sooner or later, it will get out. They had to be ready by then. If He failed to stop the Old Light in her relentless pursuit, He cannot leave preparations for the last minute.

Herrah arrived with little fanfare. She had no need for any. She was as large ad Hegemol behind Him, proved herself in battle countless times. The way she moved screamed predator to everyone watching. He has heard tales about her crushing the heads of her enemies with bare hands, breaking in chests with a single swing of her hammer, tear off limbs–

He took a sip of His tea.

“King of Hallownest.”

“Queen of Deepnest.”

“I hope you were not waiting too long.”

“We’ve had plenty of duties to pass the time. Tea?”

“No, thank you.”

He gestured for her to sit and she did. They stared at each other for a while, waiting for the other to budge. It’s not like He could accuse her head on, nor would she ever outright admit she had a hand in the disappearance of His subjects. Despite not signing the ceasefire, the cold war between them could reignite any minute. But He won’t let it go. They were His people.

“Some of Our construction workers have gone missing.”

“Tragic. How does that concern me?”

“We were wondering if your scouts have seen what happened.”

“They watch out for dangers not walking meals. Too much temptation.”

He put down the cut a little louder than He intended. His lack of composure earned Him a shift in stance, her eyebrow no doubt raised in surprised amusement and mocking. It took Him a few seconds to collect Himself. Meeting with Herrah was like pulling teeth.

“We see. That’s unfortunate. We hoped to resolve this quick.”

“I know what you’re thinking. You will not send your soldiers into my lands to look for some lost fools. Wouldn’t find anything anyway. Everyone who wanders into the webs are free meal and we don’t tend to leave much.”

“We did not ask for your leave, Queen of Deepnest.”

She chuckled at the traceable fury in His voice.

“You are out of touch, Wyrm. I’ve rattled you with a few words.”

“You did no such thing. We imagine you’d react the same if _your_ people went missing on the borders.”

“They knew what they signed up for.”

For a single second the heritage of His Sire raised its ugly head in Him once more. This time He didn’t manage to crush it as soon as in the White Palace and He indulged the images of just letting Deepnest have a taste of the anger of a Higher Being. If not for else then to wipe off that smirk hiding behind her mask. Herrah was good. She was very, very good in battle. But she never battled a god to death before. Never fought one of His kind outside of unfriendly duels. He sacrificed a lot in order to keep things that way. Hallownest had a King, not a _Tyrant._

He took a slightly deeper breath and the urge was silenced.

“We see. In that case, forgive Us for your wasted time. We shall resolve this in another manner.”

He stood up and she tensed, probably anticipating battle. He planned no such thing. True, sometimes His temper boiled over from the unending tirade of careless cruelty she presented over the lives that her Hunters destroyed. Sometimes she was the one swayed by her rage, usually because of collapsed corners of the nest she was convinced He had a hand in.

“A good day to you, Queen of Deepnest.”

He had no intention to explain Himself to her.

“Leaving so soon, King of Hallownest? I wonder what earned that urgent attention of yours.”

He stopped.

Could she know about the infection? About its origin? No, that was a foolish question. Of course she knew. Her mimics wormed themselves into His city for a whole now. Was this the reason she was bold enough to take not one, but seven of His subjects? Did she think He would let _either_ of them get away with hurting His people?

She will be disappointed.

“We shall leave you to wonder.”

He did not look back.

*

The Teacher was surprisingly silent in the corner. She was reading her notes, trying to find connections between the information she observed. Her novice was standing to the side when he entered, mixing something with great care. Even with the dark cloak dimming His light, His presence was immediately felt. Everyone rose to attention.

He dismissed the need to bow for the sake of the family sitting beside the bed, looking much worse for wear than they did in the morning. A quiet murmur of ‘Your Majesty’ resonated through the room.

“Monomon. Do you have something for Us?”

“Not much, Sire. The data if far too scarce for now, though her condition seems to worsen.”

“So it does.”

It was something He could tell from a single glance. He walked to the side of the bed and around the father clinging to the young lady’s left hand. The small form of the girl, barely older than a hatchling, seemed sunken and dark. Her breathing was slow but shallow.

She stirred at His presence. Her fingers twitched the second He stood beside the bed and leaned forward. He was hoping to restore her body a little with some of His own Soul, although His Lady was way more talented in the arts of healing that He could ever hope to be. The occupants of the room stilled when the girl let out a barely audible groan.

Curious and hopeful, He leaned closer.

“Miss Mint. Can you hear Us?”

The young bug stirred once more, then opened her eyes.

They were yellow.


End file.
